


unmoving, but in transition

by Lilith



Series: Yuletide [6]
Category: Wayfarers Series - Becky Chambers
Genre: (Almost) Post-Book, Alien Cultural Differences, Grief/Mourning, Interspecies Relationship(s), Multi, chosen family
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-18
Updated: 2017-12-18
Packaged: 2019-02-16 13:29:00
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,809
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13054941
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lilith/pseuds/Lilith
Summary: Pei visits the Wayfarer in the aftermath of Hedra Ka.





	unmoving, but in transition

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Kass](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kass/gifts).



> This story is set between the last two chapters of _The Long Way To A Small, Angry Planet_ , meaning that I’m playing fast and loose with the timeline, a little ... bringing Pei in to visit a good six or seven tendays before she was going to in canon. I hope you’ll excuse the presumption.

**Day 182, GC Standard 307**

“Permission to come aboard?” Pei asked, with a smile and a small, ironic tilt of her head. The petite, gently rounded Human clerk who waited on the other side of the airlock doors returned her smile a trifle shyly, and held her hand out to press palms. Yes, Rosemary was well-versed in interspecies niceties. Pei remembered Ashby’s enthusiastic praise, all the warmer because he’d been a little surprised, given her Solan background. And a little abashed, in turn, at his own surprise, though she’d felt it was merited.

He’d lucked out with this one. Thank goodness.

“Welcome back, Captain Tem,” Rosemary ushered her into the ship proper. “It’s so good to see you … that is, I know Ashby was thrilled to receive your message. It was the best news any of us have had in awhile.” It was always hard to read other species, with their opaque complexions. However, Pei thought there was a lingering exhaustion, more emotional than physical, reflected in the Human’s small, dark eyes. She hoped that the sentiment was a true one; the decision to visit had been abrupt, not at all the carefully-planned rendezvous she’d been envisioning for some time. She’d been scared nearly out of her scales for Ashby from the moment the first sib reports started coming through about Hedra Ka, and nervous enough even before that. Once she’d learned that the Wayfarer was docked at Hagarem, so close to her own intended berth, to complete its repairs, well … she hadn’t been able to do anything but send a quick message and start making shuttle arrangements. Etiquette and discretion be damned.

“Please, call me Pei,” she offered, following along down the remembered patchwork corridors of Ashby’s ship, trying to calm the impatience vibrating through her veins. “There’s no need for … formality, today.”

Rosemary gestured acknowledgement. “Pei. Ashby asked me to bring you to the kitchen for a cup of tea. He’ll meet us there; he’s just checking in with the techs before we head out in the morning. We’re taking a little trip over to Kizzy’s home colony, just for a few days. The whole crew could really use a break. You know.”

The point was underscored as they rounded the corner, and Pei’s implant began transmitting the translated impressions of Ashby’s voice, as she came into what would have been auditory range. From the familiar neural patterns it derived from his intonations, she could tell that he was intensely frustrated, on the brink of anger. Just inside the entrance to the kitchen, Ashby stood grouped with a dramatically pale pink-and-orange Human—Corbin, the Algaeist—and Sissix, who was twitching the end of her tail in mild agitation. Ashby’s brows were drawn, and his glare focused on the sour-faced man, who did not appear to be much cowed by his captain’s displeasure.

“Why wasn’t I consulted? The last person Ohan probably wants hanging around th—him—it’s tantamount to compounding an already unimaginable breach of his personal autonomy, and I won’t—“

“Ashby.” Sissix laid a clawed hand on his shoulder, and he paused, still stormy. “Dr. Chef thought Corbin was the best option to monitor Ohan’s condition while he’s away. If there’s one thing he definitely is, it’s … meticulous.” She gave Corbin a measuring look, a little wry but surprisingly mild, given what Pei knew of their history. “He only needs to make sure Ohan takes those supplements at regular intervals, and keep an eye on him. Corbin can’t leave the ship anyway, and I know Ohan wouldn’t want to distract from your alone time with … oh, hello Pei!”

The hue of the Aandrisk pilot’s voice shifted to something warmer as she noticed Pei’s and Rosemary’s approach. Ashby turned too, and Pei watched as all the simmering outrage melted away, leaving his shoulders to slump slightly. Unlike other Humans, his face was an open scrib to her by now, and the look on it now made her want to sweep him into the nearest unoccupied bolthole without any further ado.

That, however, would have been entirely rude, even among such an understanding group of sapients.

What she could do, however, was step forward and lean her forehead against his, wrapping her arms around his stocky shoulders and holding him there for two breaths before releasing him and turning to accept a friendly, nuzzling Aandrisk embrace from Sissix. “It’s wonderful to see you all,” she offered simply, barely able to tear her eyes from Ashby’s beautiful, furry face.

He, too, had a haunted look around his eyes, a wan tiredness that went beyond anything physical. There was tension, too, in the way he held himself; a slight crease in his brow. His mouth, however, was curled into a broad smile, gaze softening as he took her in in turn.

The small part of her brain that was continuously monitoring her surroundings—a necessary habit in her line of work, and hard to turn off—noticed that in the general effusion, Corbin had slunk off. Just as well.

 

The tea was a bit bland for her taste, but Rosemary had helpfully passed her a salt-and-herb mix from the motley collection of condiments on the kitchen counter, which improved it a little. It warmed her insides, at least, as she and the three Wayfarer crewmates sat and exchanged news, keeping things as light and pleasant as they could manage. The repairs to the ship were nearly complete; the few remaining tasks were thoroughly routine, and could apparently be left to the fixbots. (Fixbots! Kizzy must be as worn out as these three.) Ashby had insisted on some much-needed vacation time for his crew, although most of them were only taking very abbreviated trips; a few days, instead of a tenday or two. The aftershocks of recent disaster clearly made them all want to gather in close to one another.

Sissix’s scrib beeped, and she glanced down. “My planetary shuttle will be docking in half an hour,” she explained, standing.

Sissix, Pei knew, couldn’t stray far from the Wayfarer without Corbin, not while she was forced to serve as his legal guardian pending completion of his application for citizenship. Still, at Ashby’s urging, she’d elected to spend a few days down on the surface of Hagarem, visiting with some of the Aandrisk community there.

Rosemary stood as well, reaching out, and Sissix leaned in to nuzzle her tenderly, her jaw dropping slightly as her tongue flickered out to taste the Human clerk’s exhalations, not touching. Pei straightened a little in surprise. Rosemary pressed a soft, open kiss to the Aandrisk’s scaly cheek. “Have fun,” she smiled.

“You too,” Sissix fixed Rosemary with a look of mild concern, her head cocking slightly. “Are you sure you’ll be all right? You don’t want to come with me instead? Jenks is so …”

“I’ll be fine.” Rosemary squeezed one of the Aandrisk’s clawed hands before stepping back. “Kizzy could use the backup, right now, and I’ve never really visited a colony world before. Well, apart from Cricket.” There was an implication that backwater, barely-settled moons really didn’t count for the full experience. “Here, let me carry your bag to the airlock.” There was no reason a small Human was needed for such a task, and Aandrisks didn’t tend to carry much luggage as a rule, but Sissix didn’t argue. They left the kitchen together.

Pei gazed after them, aware that lavender curls of subtle yearning were drifting across her cheeks. Ashby hadn’t mentioned this particular development in their correspondence. Granted, it had been extremely limited for some time, but it still felt like an oversight. She knew, of course, that most other species didn’t see a relationship of that sort as anything to so much as blink at, especially Aandrisks. She would have said she was used to such un-self-conscious displays, but somehow this was different. This was Ashby’s crew.

A warm, brown hand settled over hers. “I guess they’ve finally decided to throw discretion to the solar winds,” Ashby was smiling, his voice warm with humor, but there was a touch of concern in his expression. Perhaps it had struck him, too; that contrast with their own experience, their own heavily reinforced boundaries.

Boundaries that, of course, need not apply here. On the Wayfarer, she and Ashby could be every bit as demonstrative as Rosemary and Sissix, and meet only with approval and perhaps a little good-natured teasing. It still wasn’t familiar, or comfortable. Not yet.

“It’s nothing,” she shrugged a little, turning her hand under his and stroking her fingers over his lined, solid palm, then up the smooth underside of his arm, wrapping her fingers around him just below the elbow and rolled-up sleeve. Her second eyelids blinked slowly as she eyed him, mouth curving into a sly smile. “Come on, let’s go … I seem to recall that you left your room out of the ship’s tour, last time I was here.”

 

Captain’s cabin or not, there wasn’t room for the two of them to do much more than stand together—but Pei wasn’t terribly interested in standing, anyway. She gripped his hips, pulling them into hers, and they tumbled onto the bed. His mouth was hungry on her curving throat. The strange tickle of his beard against her scales never lost its alluring novelty.

“Stars, I missed you,” Ashby murmured, and the vibration of his speech into her flesh made her shiver. For a moment, the evolutionary barriers between their natural modes of communication were down, and she could process the intent behind his words without the assistance of her implant. At least, in essence. She writhed against him slowly, enjoying the heady, encompassing scent of him, wanting to feel the fascinating texture of his body hair and the warm radiance of his flesh directly against hers. She began to peel him out of his simple shipboard clothing, while his fingers found the zipper of her jumpsuit.

It was fast and messy and urgent with recent fear; the awareness that they could have lost each other, that he could so easily have vanished into a hole in existence and never emerged, permeated every movement. Ordinarily, they luxuriated in their rare opportunities at intimacy, taking every available minute to explore and savor each other, but Pei couldn’t slow down, and Ashby seemed just as desperate. He clutched her to him much more roughly than usual, shuddering, and she knew she was displaying a kaleidoscoping chaos of emotions across her face, their brilliance muddied and concealed in the darkness of his room.

 

**Day 183, GC Standard 307**

The lights in the Wayfarer’s corridors were warming into full daylight mode as Pei padded down the steps towards the tech workspace, barefoot against the thin, scratchy carpet. It was a strange novelty, relaxing her standards of dress and comportment so much onboard ship, but this little oddball rig of Ashby’s felt like a haven, not a place of business where she should maintain some sort of professional veneer. Even though her only other visit had been in the company of her crew and military passengers, the Wayfarer had been a refuge, even then.

She felt a couple of abrupt thuds vibrating through the floor panels and paused, resting her hand on the doorframe and looking inside. A small, familiar form was half-buried in an open crate of miscellaneous tech supplies, with odd bits and random tools scattered around behind her. As Pei watched, a heavy-looking socket wrench was tossed over one shoulder to thump against the side of a comfortably worn easy chair.

“Kizzy?” she called, prudently declining to take a step further inside and potentially into the line of fire.

A head adorned with several messy black braids popped up, and Kizzy hopped to her feet with a grin. “Pei!” She made a beeline for the bemused Aeluon, wrapping her up in an enthusiastic hug. When Pei was slow to respond, however, she pulled back, cheeks going pink. “Um, sorry, was that not okay?”

Pei couldn’t help grinning a little at the tech’s belated uncertainty. “You’re fine,” she reassured her, “I’m glad to see you, too. I’m sorry I didn’t have a chance to say hello last night. Ashby and I got … caught up.” It was her turn to redden slightly with embarrassment. Some cross-species correlations were truly a little eerie.

Kizzy elbowed her in a friendly way, gleeful once more. “Thank goodness for that. Ashby’s been needing to relax like you would not believe.”

Pei examined the grubby Human’s face more closely, noting the bags under her eyes, the slight redness of the membranes. “It looks like he’s not the only one. I was hoping you’d have learned to sleep again since we last saw each other.”

Kizzy grimaced a little. “Yeah, well … there’s been a lot to take care of.”

“With the ship?”

“The ship too, yeah. But! I’m going to see my dads today, which should totally help. Dogs are like the cheer-up cavalry, even for tiny sadsacks who jettison themselves into space instead of talking to their friends …” she trailed off, coming back to herself with a jerk. “Anyway, I’m glad you came to say hi, because we need to get going.”

Pei decided that it wasn’t really her place to try and untangle all that unless Kizzy asked her; if she was going to visit family, that was probably a better salve than anything she could say. She’d heard about the demise of the ship’s AI, of course—it was hard to miss, as Ashby kept referring to his scrib instead of requesting updates from the nearest vox, and occasionally tripping over needing to take care of some routine automated process manually. And she knew what Lovey had meant to poor Jenks.

She could all too easily imagine his feelings, right now. Or at least, something like them. She supposed that, if Ashby _had_ disappeared into the between-space for good, at least she wouldn’t have had reminders of the loss in her face all day, every day. That had to be … devastating.

Kizzy seemed to finally have located whatever it was she needed from the crate – without generating shrapnel, this time. Shoving it into a worn duffle bag that sat slumped in another armchair, she hoisted the whole thing over her shoulder. “I’ve got to go find Jenks. The little bastard’s coming home with me if I have to stuff him in here, too.”

“I’ll come with you,” Pei offered. “In case you need a hand with that.” She gave a wry, supportive smirk.

The smile Kizzy shot her was a little grateful and a lot determined, under the thinnest veneer of bravado. There was steel in her eyes; warmer than the look that she’d had when she was disarming mines in the walls of Pei’s ship, but just as strong. Kizzy would be easy to underestimate, if you weren’t careful.

 

As they approached the AI chamber, Pei caught a warning whiff of burnt cinnamon and ash. She tried to breathe shallowly as they stepped into the darkened space, all the little lights lining the walls dull and inert.

Kizzy kicked off her shoes, leaving them by the door.

Jenks was curled up against the wall of the pit, also barefoot, smoking redreed. The pedestal in the center was empty, but he was staring moodily at something sitting next to it; an open crate, and peeking out of the packaging puffs, the shining curve of a newly-purchased AI core. Pei heard Kizzy’s sharply indrawn breath as she took in the scene.

“Aw, buddy,” she murmured.

“He arrived today,” Jenks said flatly, not looking up. “Ashby said to take my time when he got here … we’re staying in dock for at least another tenday, so there’s no rush.”

Kizzy didn’t respond verbally; she just climbed down into the pit, shivering a little as the cooler air hit her. Pei followed slowly, not wanting to intrude.

“This is so fucked up, Kizz,” Jenks closed his eyes, taking a deep drag from his pipe, then exhaling it gustily. “I know the whole ship is barely functioning ... we couldn’t leave dock right now without being sitting ducks for whatever random astroid comes through. And I know it’s not like this—“ he gestured around him, taking in the pit and the chamber beyond—“is like, Lovey’s body, or something. She didn’t have a body.” He gave a broken little sound, and Kizzy scooted in close, but didn’t touch him. “She didn’t have a chance to have one.”

Kizzy opened her mouth, but Jenks glared at her. “Anyway, I’m a comp tech. Of COURSE I know that this” he thumped the wall of the pit with the fist that was furthest from Kizzy “isn’t Lovey. But still, I just can’t …” A sob forced its way up from deep in his chest, and this time Kizzy did touch him. She wrapped an arm around his shoulders.

By this time, Pei’s eyes were itching so fiercely that tears ran down her cheeks. She tried to draw a slow, quiet breath, but it caught in her throat and she hacked, almost doubling over. There was a clatter as Jenks’s pipe fell to the floor; he jumped up in shock, shaking off Kizzy’s arm.  
“What—Pei? Oh stars, the redreed!” He pulled his sweater off over his head and wrapped it around the pipe, stifling the source of the smoke. He and Kizzy climbed out of the pit quickly, hurrying over to where Pei was wheezing and probably glowing with embarrassment.

“I’m … all right. Just need … some air.” She waved off their concerned flailing and turned back towards the brightly-lit corridor beyond, second eyelids blinking shut against the sudden glare. Kizzy took one of her arms, steering her, while Jenks padded anxiously after, briefly distracted from his anguish.

“Here, let’s get you to the medbay; I know where Dr. Chef keeps the antihistamines hidden from Corbin.”

 

**Day 185, GC Standard 307**

The Wayfarer buzzed and rumbled like a living thing all around her, its processes more palpable, more physically present than on her own or any other Aeluon ship. For all that, the cramped corridors felt strangely empty with most of Ashby’s crew away. There was a calm that came with this, a peaceful sense of privacy, which made it all the more disconcerting when that impression was shattered.

She was on her way down to the kitchen for breakfast when she was almost bowled over by someone rushing around a corner out of nowhere, charging for the stairs up to the top deck and living quarters. It was the surly Algaeist, Corbin, clutching something to his chest as he stumbled back, swearing.

“Why don’t you watch where you’re going, you slippery f—“ She wasn’t sure what he’d been about to say, because he choked it back, his face going several dramatic shades darker. “Erm. Sorry.” He scuttled awkwardly past her, clomping up the steps.

Pei shook herself a little, casting an unimpressed grimace over her shoulder before continuing on.

 

The Fishbowl wasn’t as neatly trimmed and coiffed as the _ke’valon_ on Pei’s ship, but that just made it feel more homey, as though she were sitting in someone’s back garden, planetside. Pei luxuriated, her toes tangling in the grass, enjoying the sparkling dazzle of the fountain and the warm comfort of the steaming mug of mek she held close to her chest. She felt almost completely relaxed, which hadn’t happened in longer than she cared to remember.

There was a creak as Ashby took his own seat, placing a platter divided neatly between algae puffs and brined seaweed crisps between them. She smiled at him, enjoying the opportunity to just … look, without worrying or counting down the time. He gave her a sly look from under lowered lids, telling her that she’d noticed exactly what she was doing, and didn’t mind in the least.

It gave her some ideas … but not yet. She just wanted to sit and enjoy the view(s) for now.

“The hydroponics are impressive,” she commented, crunching down delicately on a seaweed crisp. She hadn’t been able to identify nearly a quarter of the vegetables she’d seen carefully staked there among salvaged frames and lattices.

“Dr. Chef will be flattered to hear it,” Ashby grinned, sipping his own mek. “He works hard on the selection … as though we’d ever get bored with his cooking, anyway. I’m looking forward to seeing what he brings back from Port Coriol this time.”

“I’m looking forward to meeting him properly. To spending time with all your crew.” She glanced over, then reached out to twine her fingers with his shorter, thicker digits. “Pleasant as it is to get some time to ourselves.”

Ashby squeezed her hand, but he looked a little sad. “I just wish the circumstances were better,” he sighed. “We’re … not exactly at our best right now.”

“All the more reason for me to be here, then,” she said firmly. “I don’t just want to be with you when things are easy, Ashby … when you’re relaxed and prosperous and on shore leave somewhere. I want to be part of your life, which includes supporting you and your crew.”

He brought her hand up to his face, kissing her fingers. “Thank you.”

“You shouldn’t thank me,” she shrugged, though she stroked his cheek gently when he released her, teasing at his beard. “I just want to be a good partner—a _real_ partner, to you. And your crew have made me feel so welcome. I should return the courtesy.” A wistful note was creeping into the vocalizations from her talkbox, she knew. Sometimes, she nearly regretted the sensitivity of the tech.

Ashby, being far too perceptive, regarded her with a mildly troubled expression, but he didn’t press.

 

Much later, she was headed back to Ashby’s room for a shower when her implant picked up voices from further down the corridor. She was startled all over again; it was so easy to forget that they weren’t quite alone on the ship.

It would be rude to pry, but she was headed in that direction anyway, and taking a few steps further down the hall was no particular effort. She paused outside an open door.

The room was very dimly lit, but she could make out a shaggy form laid out on the bed at the far end, near the window. Corbin was stooped over the prone sapient, fumbling with something.

A soft, harsh voice came from the bed. “Why … are you doing this?” She realized that this must be the Navigator, Ohan. The newly solitary Sianat. She had only met him (well, them) very briefly on her previous stop onboard the Wayfarer. Sianat Pairs were rarely seen outside of specialized labs and on tunneling ships; the species was largely unfamiliar to her, and what this one was going through now … nearly incomprehensible.

The Human made an unattractive snorting sound, a yellow-and-red sort of exasperation. “Someone has to keep you alive, Ohan,” he responded, a little too pointedly to be matter-of-fact. “I started that, so I’m damned if I won’t keep it going. Now take your medicine.” He held up the object he’d been struggling with; a small tube of some sort of medicated paste, now torn open.

“W—I still do not understand,” the whispering mutter continued. “You have forced the Break on me. I am in … nnn … much pain. This seems like kindness to you?”

“No, it doesn’t.” The implant showed her Corbin’s tone in several shades of blunt unconcern. “I don’t particularly care if you’re comfortable right now; it’s not my fault you let yourself get so sick. But you have a chance to be …” and here, he struggled with words. “To be something different from what you were made, or trained, to be. Maybe better, I don’t know. But it’s better to know the truth about yourself.”

There was a pause. The Sianat reached for the tube in Corbin’s hand. The Algaeist turned away, not bothering to watch and make sure the medicine was taken properly. Pei slipped away before he could catch her eavesdropping.

 

**Day 186, GC Standard 307**

Sometime in what Ashby had called the wee hours of the morning—an old Earthen phrase, she suspected—they lay entwined in his bed, sweat drying on skin and scales. She stretched a little, sore and sated, letting her mind wander.

“Ashby,” she murmured.

“Mmmh?” He blinked back sleep, turning his head to look at her.

“The day I arrived … why were you so upset that Corbin is nursing your sick Navigator? You’ve complained to me several times, calling him speciesist, antisocial … isn’t this an improvement?” She had an inkling that she knew some part of the answer to her question, from the bits and pieces she’d gathered, but she wanted to hear his perspective.

Ashby gave a grumpy sigh, clearly coming more fully awake. “Corbin injected Ohan with the cure against his will. It was completely inappropriate. Criminal, even.”

She considered this. “Why would he do something like that?”

“Who knows? He saved his life, and part of me isn’t sorry about that. Sissix is certainly pleased with it; I think it’s actually made her think a little better of that jackass. But it was Ohan’s choice, and Corbin took it away from him. You’d think that, of all people, he would have understood how not okay that was!”

“Because he’s a clone?”

Ashby gave an abrupt gesture, indicating that he felt this should have been obvious. “He was imprisoned, he lost his GC citizenship … he’s tied to Sissix now, and small improvements aside, they hate each others’ _guts_ , Pei. His autonomy was completely stripped from him, without warning or explanation. How could he turn around and do that to someone else?”

“I … caught some of their conversation, earlier today. He said something about the value of knowing the truth about yourself. Maybe he’s taken something different from the experience.”

Ashby shifted uncomfortably. “That still didn’t give him the right. We can’t just impose our values or our will on other sapients. If we do that …” he trailed off into an uneasy silence.

After a moment she reached out, gently brushing the sweaty curls of his strange, springy hair back from his forehead. “This isn’t just about Corbin and Ohan, is it?”

Ashby turned his head, burying his face in her palm, and gave a gusty sigh. “No, I suppose it isn’t. I … told you about my meeting with the Parliamentary committee, yes?”

Now they were coming to it. “You did, yes. From what you said, it sounds like you may have helped to influence their decision about the treaty.”

“I doubt it,” he muttered. “They probably just ran a cost/benefit analysis that came out too steep. They knew everything I could tell them already, and they were still thinking about going back there—about letting those maniacs come here. Who’s to say they won’t do something like that again?”

She didn’t respond, waiting for him to continue.

The implant reflected his modulated tone, his sadder, pastel speech. “When I was growing up on the Fleet, we idolized the GC, especially the founding species. They saved us … from total obscurity and dissolution, from the consequences of our own disastrous history. The GC represented everything that sapients could be. Many of our ancestors insisted that living in harmony was impossible, and inevitably almost destroyed themselves, but the GC had a better way. And they were willing to give us another chance, too.” He sighed. “I’m not naïve … I know the GC isn’t perfect, and that every species has its assholes. But I really thought that, deep down, that level of violent self-interest was a human flaw. And I thought … that the GC was right to be so wary of us, to take so long before admitting us.”

“But then I met the Toremi Ka.”

She waited, but he left it at that, and she supposed it was enough to make his point. She stroked his hair, the side of his face, then rolled over and leaned up on one elbow, looking down at him.

“Your species are nothing like the Toremi, Ashby. Not anymore, at least. You’ve learned, and you’ve gone out into the universe and started to make a place for yourselves. You’re not comfortable in it yet, but maybe that’s a good thing, because there’s still room for learning, and for teaching, too. You spoke out to the committee, Ashby. You helped to remind them what’s at stake, because you yourself can’t forget it easily.”

He looked thoughtful, if unconvinced. She stroked her fingers down the center of his torso, between the strange irregular nubs of his nipples and down to the charming little indentation of his navel. Gestation didn’t leave scars on Aeluon bodies, so this was fascinating to her. She circled it gently, stroking. His belly quivered under her touch. Other parts of him quivered, too.

Maybe she wasn’t ready to sleep just yet.

As she moved to bracket his body with her own, looking down at him, she pitched her talkbox down a little, saying hesitantly, “And as for values, and other GC species … Ashby … when I left my ship …”

He was looking a little dazed, lying there, his wrists pinned by her strong hands, but he managed to cock an eyebrow at her.

“I think … mmm …” She lowered herself, pausing to catch her breath as they slid together and caught. “I think my crew was suspicious. I—ah—I wasn’t careful, I was too frantic to make sure you were all right. I think they know.” She stopped trying to vocalize for the moment, too distracted to form the thoughts properly into words he could understand. He, too, looked ready to lose himself in her, but he made an effort, focused.

“I wondered if something … was wrong,” he murmured, rocking upward, gently. “What do you … is there anything I should …”

She shook her head, driving herself downward with a gasp, an involuntary exhalation, a reaction their species shared regardless of the presence of vocal cords. “No, I … I don’t care anymore. I want you to be … part of my life … and I’ll deal with the consequences.” She leaned down, kissing him deeply, and there were no more words for some time.

There would, of course, be more discussion later, and she knew that whatever happened, they’d have each other. And the support of his crew … and even some of her own. If she had to make some replacements, so be it. If they needed to look for other contracts, if the Aeluon government turned them away, they would survive.

Maybe she’d even consider building a mixed-species crew. She could see that it held some advantages.

 

**Day 188, GC Standard 307**

Pei and Ashby were sitting at the kitchen counter, sipping tea and listening to Dr. Chef’s pleased, burbling account of his trip.

“You should have SEEN the design of this greenhouse. It was inspired by an Earthen mollusk shell, what was it called … hrm … a nautilus! A great big spiral, with overlapping sections of shade and sun-loving plants. I had to help him move a few of the specimens he was less familiar with, though. He had a _gintska_ vine staked out right next to the _rrupet_. It would have been catastrophic!” His cheeks puffed merrily, and all the while he was busily unwrapping parcels, pulling out little packets of seeds and spices and even some dried, edible flowers, still brightly-colored in their carefully-folded wrappers.

Ashby chuckled; she didn’t think he had any more idea of what the Grum was talking about than she did, but his good cheer was infectious.

“Oh, and on my way to the spaceport I stopped in at the Rust Bucket,” he said, a little more seriously, although there was still a pleased roundness to his expression. “Pepper sends her greetings, of course—she’s the one who suggested the _utl_ spice, it has lots of kick, Kizzy will approve—and I had the opportunity to meet her new assistant as well. Sidra, her name is.”

Ashby went still for a moment, and Pei looked at him quizzically. She was missing something, here. He shook his head at her once, signaling that this was something he’d have to explain later.

“How … was she?” He asked carefully, intent and perhaps a little concerned. “Did all seem to be well with them?”

“She was a charming young lady,” Dr. Chef responded definitely, “polite and personable, as you might remem—expect. A bit reserved. I think she’ll find her way.”

“That’s ... good to hear.” The implant registered a new voice, and Pei turned to see that Jenks, Kizzy and Rosemary had arrived as well. She’d been so intent on the strange subtext in Ashby and Dr. Chef’s exchange that she hadn’t noticed their approach.

She really had been relaxing, the last few days, to have let her awareness of her surroundings slide that much.

The room seemed to be holding its collective breath, and Kizzy and Rosemary were both looking at Jenks nervously, but he gave a little smile. “I hope you said hi to Pep for us,” he said lightly, reaching over to pluck an algae puff off Ashby’s plate.

“Of course,” Dr. Chef leveled a serious look at him. “I wished them both the best.” Jenks nodded.

“Well, we’re back, boss,” he said, flashing a quick and entirely non-regulation—by any set of regulations she was aware of, anyway—salute at Ashby. “Come on, Kizz, we have work to do.” And he dragged her off without further pleasantries. She could be heard sputtering and squeaking as they disappeared down the corridor.

Rosemary heaved a little sigh and took a seat next to Pei. “Hi, Pei. Hey, Captain.” Dr. Chef had already turned away to brew up another cup of tea.

“How was Mudskip Notch?” Ashby gave her a look of mild concern.

“Oh, Kizzy’s parents were lovely, really sweet. The dogs too, if a little … excitable. And there was some great music the second night we were there. The ride back was just …” She closed her eyes. “I thought Kizzy was going to vibrate the shuttle apart, she was so excited about all the treats she was bringing back for everyone. And she kept arguing with Jenks about canine compatibility with other sapient species … Spot’s going to have a litter by early next standard, apparently. She said that Ohan’s probably not going to have as many health risks anymore, even if he stays with us, and maybe …” she trailed off.

Ashby laughed. “Sissix won’t have that,” he grinned, shaking his head a little. “And I can’t imagine what Corbin would say.”

Rosemary groaned with happiness as Dr. Chef handed her tea across. “Thank goodness. I like animals, but the temperament of those critters … between it and Kizzy, a dog like that would take this ship to pieces.”

“If Jenks was engaging, that can’t be a bad sign,” Dr. Chef commented with a hopeful puff. Rosemary gave a little smile. “He was pretty out of it for most of the trip, but … he did tell Kizzy at one point that he’d consider backing her up on the dog issue if she’d let him ride around on its back.” Ashby snorted, and Pei knew her cheeks had greened up at the image.

 

Half an hour later, Pei was going over some news on her scrib while Ashby and Rosemary discussed some formwork that needed revising, when Dr. Chef called out a greeting to their last straggler. Sissix responded cheerfully, swooping in to rub cheeks with Ashby and Rosemary, and finally with Pei, who had signaled acceptance of the more intimate gesture.

It was an oddly subdued greeting for an Aandrisk, and Pei saw her concern mirrored on Ashby and Rosemary’s faces.

“How was your visit with the Yishteksat commune?” Rosemary prompted, turning all the way around in her seat and leaning on the back of it a little. “Did you see your old feather-sister there, the one you were telling me about?”

“Oh, I had a marvelous time with Weshra and her new house family,” Sissix smiled fondly, “although I told her she’s far too young to be settling down like that. But she always was especially nurturing.”

“That sounds lovely,” Rosemary smiled, but she tilted her head a little, curious. “Did you have any … adventures?”

Sissix looked … not shy, that couldn’t be right. Uncertain? “Well, yes.” She hesitated. “Weshra invited me to a tet at a friend’s house down the block, and it would have been rude to …” Rosemary gave a little snort, a quick burst of input to Pei’s implant, and she was smirking, although she was also blushing furiously. Pei could practically taste the sudden ... excitement.

“You know I said I didn’t mind,” Rosemary stood, making her way over to the Aandrisk, “but I think we’re in danger of making the Captain uncomfortable.” She gave Sissix a quick kiss on the snout, then drew away, heading for the exit. “Come tell me all about it. In private.”

Pei stared after them, a bit perplexed. “That was odd,” she commented to Ashby. “I’ve never seen an Aandrisk get so bashful about that sort of thing.”

Ashby cleared his throat, looking a little off-balance, but also amused. “I think Sissix has been … walking on eggshells around Rosemary. She was probably worried that, in spite of Rosemary’s reassurances, she was about to set off her uncontrollable mammalian possessiveness and cause an unpleasant cultural disagreement.” He rolled his eyes a little, sipping his tea. “Hopefully this will settle that, and we can move on to revisiting appropriate public conduct among the crew.”

The incandescent bubbles of Dr. Chef’s laughter burst over her awareness, from where he was preparing ingredients for dinner.

 

Pei took her seat at the table beside Ashby, who was rolling his eyes at a rather smug-looking Sissix and a noticeably pink Rosemary, seated across from them. Corbin had slunk in a few minutes ago, and Dr. Chef had taken him aside to go over a few details about Ohan’s care in the Grum’s absence. His cheeks were puffing in an approving sort of way, and Corbin looked much less surly than usual, nodding along to what he was saying.

The Algaeist took a seat, and Dr. Chef shook his head. “I don’t know where those two have gotten themselves to, but they know dinner was supposed to start ten minutes ago,” he burbled. “I’m not having the rest of you go hungry waiting any longer.” He went to pull out the tray of red coasters that sat steaming away on the stovetop.

Pei smiled down at the elegantly arranged plate of roe he’d placed specially before her, grateful that he wasn’t offended by her antipathy towards eating insects.

As the bugs were placed in the center of the table, the missing techs burst into the room. Kizzy made a beeline for the table, looking as if she hadn’t eaten for a week, but Jenks stood a little nervously to one side. Ashby looked up at him expectantly.

“Uh, everyone, there’s someone we’d like you to meet,” he sad, with an expression that was both pleased and a little pained. The nearest vox clicked on. Rosemary jumped a little.

“Hello,” said a smooth, male, Martian-accented voice. Pei wasn’t sure if it was some quirk of her implant, but she thought it sounded a little nervous. “My name is Tycho, and I’m so pleased to make your acquaintance. I hope I can be of service.”

 

Jenks was eating his dinner quietly, his eyes shining a little more than was strictly normal for a Human, but there was satisfaction in his expression, too, as though he’d cleared an obstacle. Next to him, Kizzy was gesticulating wildly to indicate her enthusiasm for the new _utl_ -based seasoning on the bugs. Sissix was laughing, her tail casually slung around Rosemary’s waist, as the clerk listened with interest to Dr. Chef’s thoughts on some Martian recipes he’d picked up from his homesteader friend. Corbin sat a little apart at the opposite end of the table, but he seemed to be following the various threads of conversation with the barest degree of interest, a tentative expression on his face.

Tycho wasn’t speaking up much, but had responded to a couple of direct requests for information on the history of Laru spices.

Ashby grinned indulgently at Kizzy and turned to look at Pei, his expression one of deep contentment. He looped one arm around her shoulders, squeezing briefly, and left it there as he ate. Nobody batted an eyelash, although several smiles broadened, and Kizzy gave him a hilariously unsubtle wink.

Pei lifted another spoonful of lightly _utl_ -spiced roe to her lips—Kizzy had been convincing—and chewed slowly, savoring the moment.


End file.
